


Little Secrets

by FriendlyNonMurdering



Series: McGenji Week 2017 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, McCree got a booboo, McGenji Week 2017, Minor mention of injury, Mystery Man McCree, Young Genji Shimada, that's like...the best tag ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNonMurdering/pseuds/FriendlyNonMurdering
Summary: Day One: Starting Out/Settling Down--“You are right,” he admitted. “I am not scared of you.” He tilted his head again, reminding McCree of a curious sparrow as he inched forward on the tips of his toes. “But I am curious. It is not every day that a man can break into Shimada Castle, steal from my father, and make it so long with his head on his shoulders.”“Gotta admit, I’m curious ‘bout you, too,” McCree replied. “After all, yer over here preachin’ ‘n’ all that ‘bout how you saved my life, but I ain’t even learned yer name.”“What makes you think that I will tell you my name?” he asked, suddenly coyer than ever as he tucked a shoulder close to his cheek. “Or that I will tell you the truth?”“If ya tell me the truth, how’s about I let you see the man under the mask?” McCree offered.





	Little Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Figured there's no better way to dive into a fandom than to do something really out of my reach like an entire week's worth of fics. Why not right?

Delicate fingers poked at McCree’s cheek. They were insistent and annoying, but McCree was exhausted, and waking up was a chore and a half. Each breath McCree took was labored, crackling down his throat and rampaging in his bruised and battered lungs. When he exhaled, the air rattled past his cracked and bleeding lips.

McCree’s eyes rolled back behind the thin shield of his eyelids. The sun burned against the exposed skin of his face. McCree loosely pawed upward to his head, seeking out his hat to tip it down and shield himself. His hand rose only an inch above the ground before he lost the strength to move it anymore. Soft grass pillowed the palm of his hand. McCree dug his fingers into the blades, his nails scraping against the moist dirt. He held onto the blades of grass like an anchor, seeking something to draw him back into reality.

McCree dropped his head back against the tree he fell against before he lost consciousness once more. The memories came to him in pieces and left him more confused than before if anything.

He remembered the loud noise and bright lights of the city as darkness fell across the sky. He could see the tall white walls topped with red shingles. An ethereal floral scent snaked around McCree’s ankles as he prowled the hallways with dark wood floors. The boy that caught him wandering through the halls, laden with stolen drugs and money from other parts of the compound. 

Pink flowers bordered every memory that wormed to the forefront of McCree’s thoughts.

McCree was seconds away from falling into the painless embrace of sleep and feathery petals when those insistent fingers were pressing against his cheek once more. McCree groaned, and he regretted it in an instant. The action lit a flame at the base of his throat. A croak slipped from his lips, weak and unbidden. 

“Water,” he whispered.

Fabric rustled to McCree’s right. He vaguely registered that that was where the finger had come from as well. McCree begged God, if there was one, that he would be allowed to slip into death quietly. He wouldn’t mind dying, not when the grass beneath him was so soft, and there was the quiet babbling of water somewhere nearby. The air around McCree carried the scent that all of his memories had, too.

_Tap, tap, tap._

_Sploosh._

_Tap, tap, tap._

Something hard pressed against McCree’s lower lip. There were multiple of the _things_ , and they were stubborn in an effort to work his mouth open. When McCree obliged and opened his mouth as much as he could, the velvety pads of fingertips pressed to his upper lip and against his teeth. McCree nearly recoiled, but when—what he assumed were—the person’s nails tipped forward against his lips, water followed the motion. It was freezing cold against McCree’s burning skin, but it tasted delicious.

McCree lunged forward, snapping the person’s small wrists in his hand and forcing them to stay close as he greedily gulped the water from their palms.

The person laughed.

“Are you that thirsty?” he asked. Amusement painted his accented words.

McCree was all but licking the final drops off of the stranger’s palms before pain overtook McCree. He groaned as he fell back against the tree behind him. Hands were on his shoulders, helping him to settle in more easily against the bark.

“Stay here,” the stranger said. He chuckled shortly after. “You can’t go anywhere, but you know what I mean. I will be back soon.”

McCree whimpered in protest, but he didn’t have the strength for much more. The soft _tap, tap, tapping_ of the stranger’s feet signaled his departure from McCree’s side. McCree almost felt pathetic for longing for the company of a total stranger simply because he had been given a few measly drops of water. His tongue peeked out from his laps, searching for whatever water remained on his lips. There wasn’t much.

McCree wasn’t sure how long the stranger was gone. If it weren’t for the light burning steadily against the backs of his eyelids, he would have been positive that weeks had passed on his own.

Well, if the stranger wasn’t going to come back, it was time for McCree to try and leave.

McCree squeezed his eyes shut tightly and curled his nose. He never was one for getting up easily without a steaming cup of coffee with cream and sugar. Only devils without taste buds drank their coffee black. Coffee or not, McCree knew that he needed to move. Between the calmer memories, he had a lingering sense of dread and danger. McCree knew to trust his instincts after twenty-two years of life.

McCree cracked open his left eye. Uninterrupted white light assaulted it. McCree surrendered and closed his eye again. He spent a few more moments commiserating with his eyeball as a headache bloomed in his temple from the bright light and dehydration. He wound his fingers once more into the grass and dirt under his hand for strength.

This time, when McCree opened his eye, he forced himself to keep it open, even if only a crack. He squinted at his surroundings, surveying from side to side.

All around him were the tall white walls with red shingles that he remembered so clearly. Green grass tickled the base of the walls and stopped short against a pathway that led between a square wooden door in the wall and a squat building to McCree’s right. A little pond was not far away, cycled by a fancy fountain in the center and lined with large stones.

Pink petals floated all around McCree, gathering in droves wherever they saw fit to do so.

McCree wasn’t certain that he wasn’t in heaven.

Just when McCree had half convinced himself that he was still on earth, a real-life angel hopped up onto one of the red-topped walls and slithered down the other side with a bright orange scarf billowing behind him.

He _tap, tap, tapped_ up to McCree, holding a bowl of water in his hands. He held out his offering to McCree. McCree's eyes flickered, unsure, between glistening water and gleaming white fabric and almond-shaped amber eyes. His angel was adorned with green hair, an odd touch for sure, but it was nice all the same. 

“I thought you were thirsty?” he asked.

McCree broke his eyes away from the stranger’s, his mouth suddenly ten times drier than it had been before. He licked his chapped lips before reaching out with a trembling right hand to take the bowl from the angel. His grip shuddered, but the stranger’s hands stayed with McCree’s the entire time, helping him bring the bowl to his mouth and chug the water like it was cheap beer. 

The stranger took the bowl once McCree was finished, perched on his toes as he observed McCree with his stunning eyes. He blinked slowly, drawing McCree’s attention to the way his eyelashes fanned and the red stripes that framed the corners of his eyes. McCree gulped hard, blaming it on seeking more water to slake his thirst.

“Where am I?” McCree asked. His voice cracked, but the stranger paid it no mind.

“Hanamura,” the stranger replied. His voice was like silk caressing McCree’s skin. His hand reached out, and the equally silky skin on the back of his hand brushed against a cut under McCree’s left eye. “We take in the wounded, and heal them until they are fit to leave,” he purred.

McCree hummed softly. It explained why this place was as gorgeous and perfect as it was. His head lolled to the side to look at the stranger. He had drawn his hand back from McCree’s cheek but was still fondly staring at him. McCree couldn’t believe he’d been so lucky as to get such an enamoring caretaker.

Then the stranger cracked a wide, toothy grin and snorted in a wholly unattractive way.

“You should have seen the look on your face,” he teased. McCree’s cheeks were quick to heat up under the scrutiny. “We’re in Shimada Castle,” the stranger corrected. His eyes flickered across McCree’s expression, razor sharp and aware. “The place you tried to rob last night.”

McCree grimaced. While the first option sounded a whole lot nicer, the second option sounded far more like something that would happen to him. Nice things didn’t fall into McCree’s lap; he sought out trouble, and he paid for it time after time.

“Can I wear your mask?” the stranger asked. His fingers were already at the edge of McCree’s mask, tugging it away from his cheek. “You will get a horrible tan line from wearing something like that for too long.” 

“Wha-?” McCree slurred. He turned his face away from the stranger at the last second before his mask was peeled away. “No, you cannot wear it,” McCree grumbled. He sighed as he leaned back against the tree once more, out of breath from a simple movement. He must have gotten more banged up than he initially thought.

The stranger clicked his tongue in disdain. “That’s no fun. I want to see what you look like.”

McCree furrowed his eyebrows at the stranger. “Then why didn’t ya take it off ‘n’yer own time?” he asked.

The stranger gave an elongated roll of his eyes, but it was paired with a Cheshire grin and a playful shrug of his shoulders.

“That is no fun, either,” he said as if it was obvious. “Oblige me, stranger,” he continued, “after all, I am the one who kept you hidden and alive for the past day.”

“I didn’t ask ya ta do that,” McCree argued. “I don’t owe you nothin’.”

The stranger scoffed at McCree, but his infectious grin showing off a row of pearly white teeth couldn’t be wiped from his face. 

“Would you rather be dead right now?” he asked with a dangerous tilt of his head. “Imagine the young lord, finding the _scary_ thief in the corner of the castle. You would be dealt with severely.”

McCree raised an eyebrow at the other. “Somethin’ tells me that you ain’t scared’a me none.” 

The stranger barked out a laugh. It was, dare McCree say it, charming in a totally unfair way. What right did this stranger have to be so damned _cute_? McCree blamed more than half of his frantically beating heart and his heated cheeks on the fact that this man had saved McCree’s life and given him water. Any normal person would feel something for their savior, even for a short while.

“You are right,” he admitted. “I am not scared of you.” He tilted his head again, reminding McCree of a curious sparrow as he inched forward on the tips of his toes. “But I am curious. It is not every day that a man can break into Shimada Castle, steal from my father, and make it so long with his head on his shoulders.”

“Gotta admit, I’m curious ‘bout you, too,” McCree replied. “After all, yer over here preachin’ ‘n’ all that ‘bout how you saved my life, but I ain’t even learned yer name.”

“What makes you think that I will tell you my name?” he asked, suddenly coyer than ever as he tucked a shoulder close to his cheek. “Or that I will tell you the truth?”

“If ya tell me the truth, how’s about I let you see the man under the mask?” McCree offered.

The stranger was good at keeping his expression neutral, but McCree would have had to be blind to miss the sparkle in his chestnut eyes. The stranger pressed his lips together, working them back and forth for a few seconds to spread shiny, warm chap-stick. Then his lips peeled back once more into a wolfish grin.

He stuck out his hand for McCree. “It’s a deal, partner,” he drawled, putting on his best imitation of a thick Southern accent like McCree’s.

McCree cracked a smile at the attempt. He raised his shaky hand and clasped the stranger’s smaller in his own. “Deal,” he agreed.

The stranger adjusted himself and sat down into the grass next to McCree. His crossed knees pressed against the side of McCree’s extended leg. He was a hair too close for comfort, but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. McCree wondered if it was all an act to get McCree on edge. If it was, the kid was succeeding.

“My name is Genji Shimada,” he said. He leaned forward greedily, nearly leaning into McCree’s lap. “Now take off your mask,” he demanded.

McCree held back a grimace. Genji had the voice and the looks of an angel, but the attitude of a spoiled brat. He wasn’t sure that one balanced out the other. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Genji was the type of extra-spoiled person that had never been told ‘no’ once in his life.

“Now, hold up,” McCree countered. “You saved my life, kept me safe ‘n’ all that, and I gotcher name, sure, but don’t you wanna know mine?”

“ _Pfft_ ,” Genji snorted. Half a frown was starting to form on his lips. “This deal was that I tell you my name and you show me your face,” Genji grumbled. “I did not expect that you would stall so much.”

“Well, the name’s Jesse McCree, if’n you were wonderin’,” McCree said. “Folks generally jus’ call me McCree. S’easier.”

Genji raised a thick black eyebrow at McCree. “Remove your mask,” he said again. The air stilled between them. Even the petals in the air seemed to halt in their descent. “McCree,” he added.

McCree cracked a bloodied grin at Genji. “See? That ain’t hard at all.”

McCree glanced around the garden, taking it in in more detail now that his eyes had adjusted to the light. The walls were certainly taller than twelve feet; he had no idea how Genji scaled them as easily as he did. There was a significant lack of weight on the top of his head, and he searched around for his hat but saw it nowhere in sight.

“Genji, sugar, if ya’d be a doll,” McCree said as he turned back to Genji. Genji looked ready to burst from his seat at any moment like ants were crawling under his skin. _Good_ , McCree thought, _let him stew for a while longer_. “I know I started the night in a hat. Any idea where it went?”

“I took it,” Genji said.

McCree furrowed his eyebrows and gaped at Genji. “Why’d ya do that?” he snapped.

Genji smirked like a cat. He shifted his legs into a perfect cobbler’s pose, pressing the outsides of his feet together. He curled his toes through the material of his socks, and McCree could practically see the yellow canary that he snatched from the gilded cage in his claws. 

“Because I liked it,” Genji answered.

“That don’t just mean you can take whatever you feel like!” McCree argued. 

Genji gave a sharp laugh. “You were unable to stop me then, and you are unable to stop me now,” he observed. His voice dropped into a drawl once more. “If’n ya can take it, ya can have it.”

McCree steamed. Damn Genji for being a perfect little viper.

“You won’t reveal my identity when I’m passed out like a baby, but you’ll take my hat? A man’s not a man without his hat, sweetheart,” McCree explained.

His words relit the dying fire in Genji’s eyes.

“Show me your face, and I will give you your hat,” he said.

“Our last deal didn’t work out so well,” McCree mumbled.

“Ah-ah,” Genji chided. He raised a finger and waggled it at McCree. “The deal went badly because you were the one who did not hold up his end of the deal. Now I am giving you two things in exchange for one.” Genji leaned closer to McCree, looking him up and down and making McCree feel significantly exposed. “You could not ask for a better deal.”

“Actually, I think I could,” McCree said.

Genji huffed. “Certainly you could ask, but that does not mean that I will allow it to happen. My name and your hat in return for taking off your mask.” Genji raised his eyebrows at McCree. “I do not think that is very hard at all, McCree.”

McCree frowned at Genji. If anything, it only made Genji grin all the wider at him. McCree groaned as loudly as he could and rolled his eyes skyward. He would need all the help he could get when it came to Genji. 

“You’re wasting time, McCree,” Genji hummed in a sing-song voice. He carded his fingers through the long grass, letting the blades tickle between his fingers. 

McCree turned to look at Genji. “I need to see my hat, first,” he said. “Otherwise, how will I know if you’re lying or not?” McCree asked.

Genji made an annoyed, pouty face. “You are still worried about me lying?” he asked. “Why do you think I am prone to lying? It says something about your character, McCree,” Genji scolded.

“I don’t think I can learn much of character from a guy that stole my hat,” McCree countered.

Genji snickered as he sprung easily to his feet. “Can you not put trust in the man that has kept you alive?” he asked. His eyes raked over McCree, still leaning against the tree helplessly. “The entirety of the Shimada family is looking for you, and they are desperate for your head, McCree.”

McCree nodded slowly. He worked one hand underneath himself and shoved up on his arm as best as he could. He wheezed and groaned as he stood, but Genji kept any offer of help to himself. McCree appreciated it more than Genji would ever know. 

McCree’s legs wobbled under the weight of his body as he rose to his full height. At least, as close to it as he could possibly get. His lungs and ribs refused to let him stand as straight as he wanted. When he tried to ignore them, his stomach cried out in protest, as well. Genji almost looked like he was restraining himself from making any snide comments. McCree appreciated that he held his tongue, too.

“You do not look as if you are in any shape to be climbing walls today,” Genji mused.

McCree grimaced. He knew the tactfulness couldn’t have lasted for very long. “I wouldn’t say that I am,” McCree begrudgingly agreed. “Do you have a route to your stolen goods that don’t include climbin’ any walls?”

Genji hummed. He rocked himself from his toes to his heels. He shrugged after a moment. 

“I suppose I can think of something,” he said. “Here, this way.” He beckoned for McCree to follow, who was helpless to do anything but.

Genji led McCree to the square, wooden door in the far wall. The thing was massive and looked like it was thick, too. It was probably meant to keep out intruders like McCree. That hadn’t stopped him the night before.

“Wait here,” Genji instructed.

McCree nodded.

Genji stepped away from McCree and threw his head back to look at the top of the wall. He sized it up for a moment before scaling the wall like a gecko. McCree’s eyes widened as he stared at Genji in awe. Genji didn’t wait a single moment after his right hand connected with the top of the red shingles. He tossed himself over the wall, legs swinging easily up over the red shingles. Before he vanished, McCree caught the widest, most genuine grin on Genji’s lips that he had seen the entire time he had been interacting with him.

McCree resisted the urge to call out for Genji to make sure that he was okay. After all, he had seen Genji drop from the other side of the wall before. He obviously knew what he was doing. 

A few moments later, the big wooden door moaned low as it was shoved open by half a foot. Genji peeked his green mop of hair around the corner and raised an eyebrow at McCree. He jerked his head, and that was all he got from Genji before he had vanished once more.

Sore and exhausted, McCree squeezed himself between the two doors, his chest pressing uncomfortably against the door. Despite the neon green hair, glowing white clothes, and an orange scarf as bright as a construction worker’s clothes, it took McCree more than a moment to spot Genji. 

He was across the next walled-off garden, perched up in another pink-flowered tree. He was stretched across a few thin branches, perfectly balancing his weight in the way only a seasoned warrior could. He was flitting his gaze here and there, his head turning to listen and spot anything from all directions. After a few moments, he dropped from his tree and waved McCree over.

Their trek through the gardens went in a very similar way until they got to a towering building. The security was much higher there, but Genji seemed aware of when and where every guard was going to be. He steered McCree out of sight and harm’s way time and time again until they reached the back of the building. 

It was massive and entirely out of place in the castle, despite the Japanese style that blended in with everything. McCree tipped his head back, staring up at the top of the massive building. The night before, he hadn’t gotten quite enough time to admire the construction of the buildings around the Shimada Castle.

Genji, previously in another tree, swung down from the branch like an honest to God monkey to land delicately, but surely, on his feet in front of McCree. He was grinning brightly, and his hair was wild from swinging around in the trees and jumping from branch to branch. 

“My room is on the fourth floor,” Genji said.

McCree dropped his head so fast he could feel the whiplash already.

“Fourth floor?!” he balked. “How’m I s’posed to get to the damned fourth floor?” he hissed. “Case you ain’t noticed, I barely made it through all them gardens.”

“But you _did_ ,” Genji insisted. “That’s what I am here for,” he added with a smug smirk. “If I can get an injured mystery man this far, then surely I can get him to the fourth floor of the Shimada Castle and into my room.”

He turned away then, but McCree was certain that he caught a wink before Genji turned around. 

McCree wasn’t even sure why he was surprised when Genji sprung from the ground like a frog and scrabbled for barely half a second before hauling himself up and onto the first angled roof of the building. He turned and smiled down at McCree.

“Go inside and follow the left wall. There is a set of winding stairs, keep going until you are on the fourth floor,” he instructed. “My room is on the right half of that floor. I will have to distract my brother for you to get by.” He paused, amber eyes locking onto McCree’s. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

McCree sighed heavily. He tilted his head as he looked up at Genji, meeting his eyes evenly. “I know that maybe I shouldn’t, but I do,” he agreed.

Genji nodded, satisfied by McCree’s answer. “Good,” he said. With that, Genji turned around and scaled the walls and rooves of the Shimada Castle as if he had been doing it for years. With the ease he showed, McCree wouldn’t be surprised if he had been doing it since he was a toddler.

McCree glanced around for guards before he stepped up and onto the wooden walkway. Each noise made him paranoid that someone was going to spring around the corner at any moment with a sword raised high to cut him down. He was also overly aware of the way his boots sounded against the flooring. He made sure to ease his steps as much as he could as he snuck his way into the castle.

The stairs were where Genji said they would be, and McCree went through three floors uninterrupted.

Voices greeted McCree when he was halfway up the steps to the fourth floor. He paused. He couldn’t understand a thing that was being said, but he recognized one of the voices as Genji’s. McCree hardly dared to breathe as he ascended the last of the steps. Genji was across the way from the stairs, facing McCree as he spoke with a lazy grin. Someone else was facing Genji, with arms crossed and a body language that read nothing other than tension. 

“ _I know you’re lying Genji_ ,” the other man grumbled.

McCree felt more than silly as he lowered himself as he walked, attempting to make his silhouette smaller as if that would help if he were caught. Genji flapped his hand and made a dismissive noise as McCree cautiously made his way to the right side of the floor.

“ _I’m not lying, Hanzo_ ,” he insisted. “ _If I knew about a man that broke into our home, I would have helped to find him_.”

“ _Then where were you_?” Hanzo snapped. “ _You were gone the moment he was noticed, and you haven’t shown up until now. It would be just like you to sneak off with some foreigner and help them for some sick game of yours_.”

Genji snickered. McCree wondered if any of it was directed at him as he spent far longer than necessary attempting to get a sliding door open as silently as he could.

“ _Oh, I was with a man last night, brother_ ,” Genji said. “ _If you are looking for information about him, I can certainly help you. He might have been foreign, too. I have never met someone with such a big_ —”

Hanzo held up a hand; his brows pinched tightly together as he frowned at his younger brother. “ _I do not need or want to know_ ,” Hanzo growled. He rubbed his forehead. “ _If he is still in your room, please escort him away before it gets too late_.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Genji purred.

While Genji and, most likely his brother, finished up their conversation, McCree scoured Genji’s room. The first thing he noticed was that it was certainly no bedroom McCree had ever seen before. He had a VR set in the corner, a massive TV on the wall, and all manners of game systems. The shelves built into the wall behind the TV were lined with old-style games and DVDs. McCree whistled as he made his way over to Genji’s collection.

“Wonder if these work or if they’re just for show,” he wondered aloud.

Across the way from the TV was a mini kitchen complete with a fridge and cabinets packed to the brim with snacks and junk food. McCree took in the accumulation of potato chips and candy with raised eyebrows. Somehow Genji was fitter than McCree, but he seemed to be powered by sugar and salt.

Farther down the suite was a hallway. McCree peered into the first doorway. He was met with a massive bathroom that was probably the size of apartments he had had in the past. The bathtub was big enough to be a small-sized hot tub. McCree was caught between amazement and disgust. 

McCree closed the door after himself to make sure that nothing would look amiss when Genji came in after him. He went to the final door and nudged it open with the toe of his boot. Genji’s bed was massive and piled high with so many pillows and plushies it was a wonder Genji had any room to sleep at all. 

He hadn’t yet heard the door to Genji’s suite, so McCree figured he would spend a few minutes searching Genji’s room from top to bottom for his hat. He even perused Genji’s walk-in closet and drawers near his bed—which McCree regretted immediately upon opening the first drawer. There were some things a man didn’t need to know.

McCree wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he knew that spending too long in Genji’s bedroom could lead to a precarious situation. As he left, McCree pulled the door shut to where he had first seen it. As he moved down the hallway, he heard the TV.

An old fighting game was up on the screen, and player one was kicking the crap out of player two. It was a shame to watch. It was hardly a game, and more like a slaughter.  
Genji sat draped over a cushy armchair. The shape of a Stetson perched on the top of his head was unmistakable. McCree’s eyes fell shut in defeat. He should have seen this coming from Genji. Why had he thought that this was going to be easy in any sense of the word?

“Do you play?” Genji called.

McCree slowly walked around the far side of the set of couches. The bright lights from the screen danced on Genji’s features. Half of his face was cast in shadows from McCree’s hat on the top of his head.

“I could use a partner that is not a computer or my brother,” Genji continued. 

McCree sat down on the far end of the couch. 

“Besides,” Genji continued. “If you play a few rounds with me, I won’t get mad about you snooping through my bedroom,” Genji said with a grin. That time, McCree did not miss his wink.

“It’s been a while,” McCree admitted. 

“Indulge me,” Genji said.

McCree didn’t know how he could refuse.

After enough rounds of the game, McCree forgot about the pain and weariness in his body. Genji was wiping the floor with him time after time, and it was infuriating. McCree didn’t know how he was doing it. He had to have been cheating. There was no other explanation for it. 

He didn’t know how long they played before Genji got up, stretching his arms high above his Stetson-clad head. The hat smushed down his wild green hair, pressing it against his ears and forehead. 

“Hungry?” Genji asked. “Besides, I’m bored of this game now.”

McCree frowned. There was no doubt about that being a jab at McCree. However, his stomach was starting to rumble persistently.

“I could go for food,” McCree agreed. He stood from the couch with a wince.

Genji was in his kitchen—although, a snack station might have been a better name for it—perusing through soft drinks and chips and cookies. He set out a few of the snacks on a nearby table and raised the lights in the area with his free hand.

Genji plopped down easily into one chair, ripping open the bag of chips and cracking a can of soda wide open. He sipped his drink innocently, twirling his phone from his pocket with ease and tapping at the screen with only one thumb.

McCree stood next to the other chair, staring longingly at his hat on the top of Genji’s head. He knew that Genji had noticed his staring, but Genji was just as determined as McCree not to cave in first.

Despite his best efforts, McCree caved in first.

“I want my hat,” he said.

Genji raised an eyebrow without looking away from his phone. “Surely you remember our deal,” he said. 

“Yeah, I do,” McCree said. “Your name and my hat in exchange for my mask comin’ off.”

“There was another part to it,” Genji needled. “Something about seeing your hat first.” He finally waved his phone shut with his finger, and set it down on the table. Genji brought the soda can to his lips and sipped at it. “You have seen your hat,” he said.

McCree nodded. “I have,” he agreed.

Genji kicked himself up from his chair and set his soda can on the table. He strolled up to McCree, watching him with a tilt to his head. McCree had regained some of his posture after resting and playing games, but he felt as though his added height on Genji made no difference. Somehow, even when looking up at him, Genji made it clear that he was looking down his nose at McCree.

A shared heartbeat passed between the two of them.

In another heartbeat, McCree snatched his hat from the top of Genji’s head, and Genji whipped the mask off McCree’s face.

They gazed at each other. They would certainly look absurd to an outside party, both with an arm held out far to the side and both with insanely ruffled hair from the commotion. 

Genji was the first to cut through the tension.

“You _do_ have a terrible tan line,” he admonished. 

“You thinkin’ I’m worried about tan lines?” McCree asked.

Genji’s eyebrow shot up. “Clearly not.” Genji dropped his hand, still holding onto McCree’s mask as he perched his hand on his hip. He smiled suddenly. “You should come around more often, McCree,” he suggested.

It was McCree’s turn to raise his eyebrows at Genji. “Why would I do that? I came up here to get my hat ‘n’ then skedaddle,” he said.

“Skedaddle?” Genji repeated. He made a face at the word, rolling it over his tongue a few times. 

McCree, seeing his opportunity, lowered his other hand, and snaked it toward Genji’s. He got a single finger wrapped around his mask before Genji snatched it away and snared McCree’s wrist in his hand. His grip was surprisingly tight for someone of his small stature.

A grin, the devilish and dangerous kind that Genji was so fond of, wormed its way onto Genji’s expression.

“I will make a deal with you, McCree,” Genji said.

McCree breathed in sharply. He should have seen this coming, too. Genji was always ten steps ahead of him, even when it appeared as though McCree had finally caught up with him.

“I will give you your mask if you promise to return,” he said.

“Darlin’, I already told you,” McCree said. He did his best to school his voice into something hard and threatening. It had no effect on Genji who continued to smile innocently. “This is the end of it.”

“The end?” Genji laughed loudly at that. “You are mistaken, McCree. This is only the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really drove that whole "starting out" thing home huh?
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments? Or hit me up on Twitter @Nonmurdering and we can chat Overwatch/McGenji?


End file.
